


10 Minutes (Are You Still There?)

by 5ftjewishcactus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comfort, Couch Cuddles, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kissing, Love, No Sex, No Smut, Other, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/pseuds/5ftjewishcactus
Summary: After everything, Aziraphale is ready to go see his bookshop for himself, find out what changes Adam had made, and spend a lovely afternoon fitting back into normal, or at least his normal. Crowley lingers about, making bids for Aziraphale's attention until the angel has to face that nothing everything has gone back to normal nor should it. Not when they're together, finally.





	10 Minutes (Are You Still There?)

**Author's Note:**

> I probably have more tags than are necessary but I wanted to make sure that it was clear that my Aziraphale and Crowley are asexual and Aziraphale is chubby and they are happily in love. And Crowley is allowed to be a little anxious, after everything.

After their lunch at the Ritz, Crowley drove them back to the bookshop (after having to miracle the Bentley to the Ritz. "Well I wasn't going to drive it," Aziraphale had argued.) Aziraphale figured Crowley was going to simply drop him off but instead Crowley parked the car and followed him inside. He hadn't yet seen the bookshop for himself after Adam had restored it and Crowley had mentioned some of the newer additions. He was excited to see them and add them to his ever-growing catalogue of books. Which was why he'd naturally assumed Crowley didn't plan on staying. Instead, he watched as Crowley dropped himself onto the couch in the corner (practically draped across it really) and left Aziraphale to his books.  
  
Or so it seemed. Aziraphale knew that time was different for them, that the passage of time after six thousand years on Earth as they perceived it was different. He also knew he wasn't so engrossed in his work that he was missing the passage of time. No, there was something else at play. As he worked, Aziraphale couldn't help picking up the fact that every ten minutes or so Crowley would shift, glancing in his direction. At first, he thought maybe it was a sign that Crowley was restless. But he'd known Aziraphale intended to catalogue the new books and Aziraphale had even suggested Crowley come back later for drinks. So he knew his tactics wouldn't work to distract Aziraphale until he was done. He kept working, leaving Crowley to his own devices. Soon his cataloguing took him from Crowley's line of sight and it was easier to focus on his work without Crowley's constant glances and fidgeting. Or so he thought.  
  
"Aziraphale?" Crowley called.  
  
"Yes, dear?" Aziraphale replied, continuing with his work.  
  
"Never mind."  
  
Aziraphale sighed. Despite their lovely lunch, it had been a trying morning for both of them, especially after the events of the previous day. He let it be and kept working. Ten more minutes passed before Aziraphale heard Crowley stand and walk towards the shelves he was currently working on.  
  
"Do you need something?" he asked, as Crowley peeked at him from around the shelves.  
  
"No. Curious what else was new," Crowley replied.  
  
"You could help, if you'd like."  
  
"Oh no. This is all…" Crowley gestured to the books and shelves around them. "…your thing."  
  
Aziraphale frowned. Crowley shrugged and went back to his spot in the corner. Aziraphale went back to his task.  
  
Ten minutes passed.  
  
"Angel," Crowley said.  
  
"Yes, dear."  
  
"Ah - found what I was looking for."  
  
Aziraphale kept working.  
  
Ten minutes passed.  
  
Aziraphale spotted Crowley on the opposite side of the bookshelf, fingers trailing along the shelf as though looking for something.  
  
"Need help, dear?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Crowley grabbed a book, seemingly at random and went back to his seat again.  
  
Ten minutes passed.  
  
"Do you suppose Adam restored your wine selection properly?" Crowley asked.  
  
"Well, everything else was restored properly, save the new additions. You could always go and check if you'd like."  
  
"Eh… I might… later."  
  
Aziraphale sighed.  
  
Ten minutes passed.  
  
"Angel…"  
  
And so continued for the next hour, every ten minutes Crowley would either come to check to see what Aziraphale was doing or call for him only to change his mind. Finally, Aziraphale realized there had to be a reason, a method behind the madness that he wouldn't understand unless he talked to Crowley about it. He set aside his work and headed over to the demon.  
  
"Angel, I was thinking…" Crowley said, stopping only when he glanced up and realized Aziraphale was right there.  
  
"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked.  
  
"Oh… uh… done already?"  
  
"No."  
  
Aziraphale pulled a chair over to the couch Crowley was on and gently held out his hand towards one of Crowley's. With a sigh, Crowley placed his hand in Aziraphale's. It wasn't the first time they'd held hands. During the bus ride from Tadfield to London, they'd held hands. Held onto each other. Aziraphale had initiated the contact then, too. Seeking out Crowley's hand as they'd sat down. Crowley had held his hand easily, no questions or objections. He'd needed the contact as much as Aziraphale. As Crowley slide his hand into Aziraphale's, the angel knew he must have needed it again.  
  
"Will you take off your glasses, please?" Aziraphale asked while holding Crowley's hand, this thumb rubbing along the knuckles.  
  
Crowley removed his sunglasses and set them on the table beside them. He rubbed at his eyes a moment, before finally looking up at Aziraphale. With the glasses off, Aziraphale could see what he'd been missing. The sadness and fear in those yellow eyes, as they looked at Aziraphale. Crowley hadn't been trying to get his attention every ten minutes out of some need to annoy Aziraphale or some bid for attention. He'd been trying to make sure Aziraphale was still there.  
  
"Dear," he said, reaching up to cup Crowley's cheek.  
  
"That was the worst hour of my life." Tears fell as Crowley spoke, unable and unwilling to hide his feelings, not when he didn't have to. "Thinking you were dead and it was all my fault."  
  
Aziraphale brushed away a few tears as they fell, leaning in close as he spoke. "But I'm not dead. And I never was." He squeezed Crowley's other hand in his, a reassurance that he was there, he was real. "I'm right here and I am not leaving you."  
  
Crowley nodded and leaned into Aziraphale's touch. After all the time they'd spent together, all the time they hadn't let themselves have even this, basic comfort seemed monumental. It was though, in so many ways, a tremendous act to be close, to hold each other without fear of the consequences. Aziraphale needed it as much as Crowley did. He'd been the one keeping Crowley at arm's length for far too long.  
  
He smiled softly, brushing away a few more stray tears from Crowley's cheek. "Why don't we go back to your flat for the night?"  
  
Crowley frowned. "But your new books?"  
  
Aziraphale shook his head. "They'll still be here tomorrow. For now, we can go…" Aziraphale paused a moment, as he chose his next word carefully. He didn't want to overstep, but he also wanted to make sure Crowley knew how important he was to Aziraphale. "...home. Have a couple of glasses of wine and maybe watch one of those spy movies you've been trying to get me to watch."  
  
Crowley's lips twitched with a hint of a smile at the word "home" but he tried to school his features as he spoke, feigning indifference. "My flat isn't much of a home."  
  
"Well, maybe it can be." Aziraphale wiggled, delighted by the idea. "Now."  
  
Crowley finally smiled at that and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's palm. "Let's go home, angel."  
  
Aziraphale leaned in. "May I kiss you?"  
  
Crowley nodded and Aziraphale pressed his lips to Crowley's. Now that he could. They'd kissed once before, the night before in fact, pre-swap. Crowley had claimed it was for luck. Aziraphale knew it was in case they never got another chance. That kiss had felt so finite. They could only hope that they'd interpreted Agnes' last prophecy correctly. Otherwise, they were going to lose everything. But they hadn't. So this kiss, the first of many, felt infinite.  
  
Crowley leaned his forehead against Aziraphale's. "Angel," he said, but it sounded more like the word "love."  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
Yellow eyes stared into hazel ones. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
Crowley pulled Aziraphale close, kissing him again as he wrapped long arms around his angel's round middle effectively pulling Aziraphale onto his lap in the process. It wasn't the start of anything, neither of them were interested in physical intimacy in that way, not like humans were. Crowley merely wanted Aziraphale as close as possible which meant pulling the angel onto his lap to hold him close. It was the weight of Aziraphale against him, there and real and whole. What he'd craved as Aziraphale had worked, the quiet of the bookshop surging panic into Crowley's mind, that it had all been a dream, that it wasn't real, that Aziraphale was truly gone, stolen from him. Seeing and hearing Aziraphale eased those fears some, but this… the angel he loved in his arms, solid and warm and so full of life and love. And all for him.  
  
Aziraphale chuckled, fingers carding through Crowley's hair. "Dearest, this isn't going home."  
  
Crowley's hands squeezed along Aziraphale's soft sides, holding him close. "I know. I just… I need… this."  
  
With a nod, Aziraphale put his arms around Crowley's shoulders and held him. He pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley's head as the demon buried his face against Aziraphale's chest. Crowley breathed in Aziraphale's scent, the smell of old books, the cheesecake he'd eaten at lunch, and even his new cologne which Crowley had noticed before Aziraphale had mentioned it. All of it reminded Crowley that Aziraphale was there, alive and real. Aziraphale's fingers carded through his hair and he finally let himself relax.  
  
"Crowley, dear," Aziraphale said, after several minutes.  
  
"Right, home," Crowley replied, moving away only enough to look up at Aziraphale who smiled at him.  
  
Crowley helped Aziraphale to stand up from where he was perched on his lap still. Glasses in hand, they headed back out of the bookshop, Aziraphale locking it up behind them. Crowley slipped his sunglasses back on, as he held Aziraphale's hand the short walk to the Bentley. He held the door open as Aziraphale climbed inside. He drove the fastest he ever had back to Mayfair, pulling up outside his building with a screech of tires. He hopped out of the car and around to the other side.  
  
"Angel," he said, holding out his hand.  
  
Aziraphale smiled at him and held his hand. "My dear."  
  
Crowley's mind short-circuited for a moment at the addition to the usual endearment. He'd intended to hold Aziraphale's hand into the building and during the elevator ride and to his flat. But now all he wanted was to hold his angel close and keep him close. His angel. He pulled Aziraphale to him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. "My angel."  
  
Aziraphale's arms wrapped around Crowley. "Yours. Always yours, my dear."  
  
Not wanting to let Aziraphale go just yet, Crowley used a miracle to take them upstairs to his flat, previous plans be damned, he needed his angel in his flat away from the prying eyes of the world.  
  
"Crowley," Aziraphale scolded, but it was said rather affectionately, thus lessening its intent.  
  
"Sorry." He wasn't sorry at all. Not even a little bit. "But you're mine and I want you all to myself. Always."  
  
One of Aziraphale's hands moved from around Crowley's waist to cup his cheek. "Always."  
  
They stood together for a while more, simply enjoying the ability to hold each other without fear. Finally, Aziraphale shifted them over to the couch where he sat down and let Crowley sit curled up against him. He gently placed kisses along Crowley's cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, while Crowley's hands explored along Aziraphale's soft body. They simply held each other, because they could and after everything they'd both been through, they needed it.  
  
Ten minutes passed.  
  
Fingers carded through Crowley's hair as he lay with his head pillowed on Aziraphale's lap.  
  
"If you need to go bed, dear, I won't mind," Aziraphale said.  
  
"'M good right here," Crowley replied, hand resting on Aziraphale's knee.  
  
It was early yet, only just barely reaching the evening and there would be time for wine and spy films and special delivery treats (Crowley did, in fact, know of three nearby pastry jobs that offered delivery. He had found them in the hope that Aziraphale might one day come over.)  
  
Ten minutes passed.  
  
With his angel watching over him, Crowley fell asleep. He was safe, his love was safe, and they were together. That was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr [@5ftjewishcactus](https://5ftjewishcactus.tumblr.com/) or on twitter on my main [@5ftjewishcactus](https://twitter.com/5ftjewishcatus) or on my sfw gen fandom [@2ambiace](https://twitter.com/2ambiace) or my dbh [@asexualhankcon](https://twitter.com/asexualhankcon).


End file.
